


Surprise Gift

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, Surprise Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Noctis was never very good at answering "what do you want for your birthday?" Luckily, his friends still know the perfect gift.





	Surprise Gift

This year was different. In the lead up to his birthday, there were no questions or speculations from his friends. There were no careful, clever, disguised observations meant to make gift shopping or selection easier, or more obvious. There were no plans suggested or recommended or organised that Noctis had seen; that had been scurried behind his back as he pretended to not know that something was planned for him. At least he thought he knew what to look for by now.

Every year had run through the same routine. As the media worked itself into a frenzy trying to speculate what the Crown Prince might receive or do for his birthday, his friends had always countered it with their own plans, cobbled together on their own intimate knowledge and outright demands to know what he wanted. They had always phrased questions carefully or concisely; staying far away from the way the media threw out suggestions and sources as they ignored the obvious or easy gifts. They had, unlike the rest of the kingdom, remembered that he was a person first and foremost.

“Sushi and some comics?” was how Prompto asked, a little nudge to Noctis’ side to draw his attention to the matter as they wandered the busy streets. “Or are you finally going big this year?”

They would be walking from whatever outing had been suggested on a whim, full and happy, and still buzzing from the city lights around them in the dark. The chimes and alarms and electronic praises or rumbles of defeat from the latest arcade adventure still ringing in their ears despite the cacophony of the Insomnia traffic and nightlife— the shouts and noise that could wash over them now, with years acclimatised to the chaos. They would have nudges shared between them, smiles and jokes, the sounds of something normal and quiet and not paraded out through the Citadel. “Just this.”

“You’re so boring, Noct!”

And Noctis would give his friend a shove before they made their way to the peace of his apartment to continue their night. To settle in for the peace of the space well above the eyes of the city. There would be leftovers and junk scrounged from the nearest corner store between them on the floor as they took turns grinding through familiar levels and obscure movies.

Ignis was more straightforward about the request, about the reality of the situation. He had, every year since their introduction, struggled to find the most appropriate gift for his closest friend. Most were sentimental as time between them carried on— little gifts that now sat on shelves throughout the apartment, or in the Citadel rooms Noctis had run from. There were books and keepsakes still gathering dust, until Ignis learnt that he preferred cooking to shopping for his friend. At first there had been the expected norm— the parade of trinkets and toys meant to elicit the reaction and endearments of the city as two children awkwardly exchanged gifts under the scrutiny of the royal media. Later they were afforded their privacy, their locked doors and childish enthusiasm and wants. 

But Ignis still liked to ask.

“Have you given any thought to what you would like for your birthday, Noct?” 

“Not a bit, Specs,” Noctis would lie. He would barely glance at the frustration the non-answer caused to cross his friend’s face, and he would ignore the weight of Ignis’ sigh hanging over him. 

“You can forego the diplomacy with me, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then what would you like?”

“I’m fine, Specs,” and Noctis would feel the weight of the years of diplomacy drilled into him as he smiled to Ignis’ glare. So he would indicate the console controller in his hands, the privacy of the apartment, the food Ignis was experimenting with across the counter. “Got all I need right here.”

“Need and want,” Ignis would only ever ask once. No matter how much he wanted the input, the hint and the promise of something more clear cut for Noctis, like when they were young, the question would only be asked once throughout August. And he would always reply to the non-answer with a smile; “are two very different things, Noct.”

And Gladio would observe. He never asked, he never pressed the matter unless he was annoyed on behalf of someone else. Unless Noctis was being a brat about the whole thing and needed a push in the right direction. Gladio would watch, and wait, and deny that he had ever done either in the first place. 

The only time he had asked the question after Noctis was twelve had been this year. As Noctis smiled down at the names appearing in texts in his hand, scrambling for his phone with each new chime or alert, and as he squirrelled the phone away with barely a ‘back in a bit’ between the grin and rushing from the room. He only asked the intrusive question when he already had an idea, and wanted confirmation before he put his machinations into place.

“You got an idea of what you want this year?” It would be asked as they sparred, as Noctis refused to run away just to ignore the question. As Gladio had his prince pinned against the hard floors of the training rooms. He would get a knee to his stomach for the question, as Noctis’ natural ability to avoid answering overruled his common sense to know when he was beaten. 

Gladio wondered if daemons and assassins could be directed to ask the prince personal questions before they attacked. It would certainly improve his evasive measures. 

This year had been different; they had been planning something together, the three of his friends who knew him far too well. Noctis could tell. Prompto was horrible at lying, either stuttering an excuse with a grin, or finding a distraction entirely. Regular annual plans were dismissed with a laugh and a ‘aren’t you bored of the same thing every year?’ while no alternatives were offered instead. There were promises kept, and others shuffled around rather than broken, the same stuttering grin and blush his only response when he asked why the schedules were changing.

Ignis ignored Noctis’ probing. Swatted him away or put him to work wash his dishes from the latest experiment. Noctis’ own speculations would be acknowledged with soft noises of understanding, before he was set to another task. It was, as Noctis learnt, easier for Ignis to redirect his focus than to lie. He could be cold and calculating, or outright non-responsive when he wanted to be. And he wanted to be this year, setting Noctis to work to avoid answering his questions.

It wasn’t until his actual birthday that he understood their plan. 

There were meetings and interviews and the banquet where he was barely able to touch the food prepared for him and the nobility and wealthy that had been invited. The routine and tradition of speeches and thanks and charitable donations rather than gifts— a measure he had learnt had the benefit of helping the causes he gave his name to, and annoying the companies as they tried to outbid each other for his favour— had carried on as normal. The day had been filled with the chaos of a royal birthday, the night was a dull roar of the echoing celebrations spreading across the Crown City. He had barely noticed when Ignis turned them down a street that would not take him back to the apartment as usual, to their little private celebrations high above the streets decorated in his honour.

“What are you doing?”

“A detour,” Ignis glanced at Noctis from the rear view mirror, as Gladio crossed his arms and watched the streets. “We’ll be at our destination in a moment.”

“So relax,” Gladio grinned at him in the dark as the streetlights gave way to the warmth of a less familiar district. 

It took Noctis a moment to recognise the streets, to spot the landmarks of familiar names and stores and bars. The familiar-but-foreign music filling the streets as all trace of a royal Lucian birthday vanished in the colour and light and noise of Galahdian transplanted culture. Lively music warred across streets between restaurants and bars, and voices filled the air as the tone changed. As the last images of the event that had gripped the rest of the city fell aside in the street, abandoned the deeper they travelled. 

Gladio shoved him towards the apartment door while Ignis stayed with the car. He grinned and held Noctis in place as a large hand announced their arrival. “Call if you need a pick up tomorrow.”

Prompto answered, beaming and laughing and shrouded in a cloud of spices and steam escaping into the evening air. The scent of spices and heat not familiar to Lucian tastes escaping to the night to mingle with the rest. “Hey, buddy!”

“Prompto?”

“Have fun! But, like, not too much fun, right?” Noctis barely had time to register his friend’s presence before Gladio was dragging him back down to the street. Before he was shoved through the doorway and into Nyx’s chest. “Safe fun!”

Nyx had stepped into Prompto’s place at the door, offering a smile to the retreating royal retinue. He ushered Noctis into the apartment with a smile and a sweet kiss, the door clicking shut with the promise of a private night spent between them. He manoeuvred Noctis to a seat at the table. The table which had been moved out to the centre of the room and done up with a proper tablecloth, set with dishes that were not the mismatched collection Nyx owned. 

“Drink, little king?” 

“What is all this?”

“What do you want for your birthday, Noct?”

“I… what?”

“Your birthday,” Nyx grinned as he moved back to the kitchen. As he let Noctis process the change in his little apartment— the cleaning, the decoration, the intimacy Nyx had cobbled together without Noctis ever having an inkling. “I didn’t actually get you anything.”

“Then what's all this?”

“All your friends. Ignis is a bit terrifying when he’s planning something.”

Noctis took a moment to look around, to notice the little details of the apartment that had changed. The bed was hidden behind a curtain he was certain would not be staying for long, the stacks of books and keepsakes were tucked away onto shelves he had never noticed before, and the comfort of Nyx’s quiet little home was transformed into an intimate setting for a dinner for them both. He could see Ignis careful eye and sense of propriety in the changes, in the little details set here and there to quiet the little haven they had cobbled together. “I don’t understand.”

“Gladio asked me if we had plans for tonight. I told him no, so they made plans for us.”

“You had no part in this?”

“I cooked,” Nyx offered a grin over his shoulder as he moved a pot from the stove and turned it off. “Which is what I was hoping to do for your birthday anyway.”

“I'm going to kill them.”

“After dinner, little star. Happy birthday.”


End file.
